


Sherlock's seduction of John Watson and how it went wrong.

by Avath



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Flirting, M/M, There will be sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-11
Updated: 2014-02-10
Packaged: 2018-01-04 07:13:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1078093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avath/pseuds/Avath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>University students Sherlock Holmes and John Watson have been flirting. The problem is, John is in a relationship and has so far resisted the urge to stray. What happens when Sherlock decides enough is enough?  A story to be told in five chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

  
Sherlock was starting to lose his patience. He had been waiting for weeks. _Months_ infact. Waiting for John to take their attraction longer than stolen glances and knowing smiles. He had expected John to crack by now, but the idiot had stayed firm and faithful to his girlfriend, Mary. Sherlock snorted at the thought of her. How could she be so stupid that she couldn't see what was going on right under her nose? Her boyfriend didn't love her. If John loved anyone it, was Sherlock. He was sure of it. Not that love mattered at all. Sherlock didn't see the point in having a relationship at all. He just wanted John to finally give in to him and give up the stupid pretense of monogamous relationships.  
  
John didn't usually come out to clubs. Sherlock had long since deduced it was because his family history of alcoholism. Sherlock did, however, go out more often than not on the weekends. There was a ready supply of drugs at these places, as well as alcohol and people to deduce down to the very soles of their shoes. Sherlock was ready for a night of that. He might even take someone home with him to take his frustration out on. Maybe if he casually slipped that into conversation with John, his ridiculous moral fibre would break and they could finally have the sex they both wanted.  
  
Sherlock was looking around the room for someone that he might be able to tolerate for long enough to achieve an orgasm when he saw John coming in with a gaggle of girls. He smiled. _John._ He hadn't been prepared to see him tonight. If he had, he would have worn a tighter shirt. __  
  
John, Mary and her friends went straight to the bar. Sherlock frowned, wondering if it upset John that the first objective upon entering the establishment was to get alcohol. He wondered how John would feel about him if he knew the extent of his drug use. He watched John order and recieve a beer. Maybe substances weren't a problem anymore. Maybe John would be a more frequent guest to the clubs around their university now. Dark, high energy places like this would certainly add a new dimension to their flirting.  
  
A little ripple of reluctant respect went through Sherlock when he saw Mary take a beer bottle off the bartop and then tease the other girls for bothering with umbrella drinks.  John turned around and leaned on the bar as the girls worked out which drink being placed on the bartop was theirs. Sherlock watched him start to scan the room and patiently waited for the blue eyes to land on him. When they did, he gave John one of his most intense looks coupled with a slow-spreading smile.  
  
John's smile was more immediate. It shone and turned Sherlock's smile into something a little less calculated and a little more genuine.  
  
 _Hello_ , John mouthed.  
  
The smile coupled with the systematic scan of the room told Sherlock he had been the one John was looking for.  
  
John took a swig of his beer and the erotic image of John with his lips around the neck of the bottle tested Sherlock's patience horribly.  
  
They kept eye contact for a few moments more until John was distracted by Mary.  
  
And the patience Sherlock had exhibited ended.  
  
This couldn't go on. John was supposed to be his. John was suppose to want him and never be distracted by anyone else. Mary put her arm around his waist and John moved in closer to her. A white hot sting of pain went through Sherlock and the blaring of music was temporarily drowned out by the utter focus he had on someone else having an arm around John. This couldn't go on.  
  
Sherlock moved forward with a purpose and ended up standing closely behind John; he made damn sure that John could feel the bulge of his cock as he pressed up against him. John pushed back his hips against him and Sherlock leaned in, humming lowly into John's ear. It was so clear what John wanted; To be rid of the layers of clothes between them and for Sherlock to enter him in a way that Sherlock assumed no man ever had.  
  
"Hello, John," he whispered. The exhale of his words played against the shell of John's ear and Sherlock could just see through the darkness that goosebumps erupted down his neck.  
  
Good.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I took so bloody long!

Bad.

John knew it was bad. He was pressing his arse back into Sherlock like a bloody cat in heat while his girlfriend was standing right next to him. He could feel both Sherlock's and Mary's bodies touching his and it sent his mind into a tailspin of conflicted emotions and physical desires.   
  
He had _longed_ for Sherlock to be as close as he was now. The amount of guilty thoughts he had expended on a scenario like this made him want to blush and he was not one to blush. Then again, he was not one to _long_ either. He had Mary and she was fun and sweet and gave him everything that he wanted. Theoretically, at least. Everything that he should want. What he actually wanted was standing pressed up behind him now, breathing words into his ear in a way that made his body react involuntarily in desire.

But he did want Mary, too. He hadn't spent the last six months being her boyfriend for nothing. Of course he wanted her.

"Stretching, John?" Sherlock whispered into his ear.

His body pushed back against Sherlock again.

_Goddamnit_ , John thought. If it wasn't his imagination, which was starting to get very active with possibilities, the shape of Sherlock's cock was shifting. Stiffening. John took a long drink of his beer to try to cool himself off but there was nothing he could do to cool Sherlock off. Or, as it turned out, himself. There was something nice about losing his control to the will of another.

"It's rude to ignore a greeting and a question," Sherlock said. His lips were now grazing the shell of John's ear and John dropped his right hand and grasped the front of Sherlock's thigh. Sherlock hummed into his ear.  
  
It was so wrong. His girlfriend was standing right there next to him and he was groping Sherlock Holmes' thigh.

"Sherlock! Sneaking up on us are you? I was wondering if I might see you here," Mary said.

John dropped his hand and twisted his body away from the direct contact with Sherlock.

Sherlock frowned.

"Yes, Mary, here I am," he said. "Obviously." Odious woman. She had moments of brilliance, he would admit to that but mostly she was just like everyone else. Annoying.

She fluttered forward and kissed him on the cheek. "Looking to pull? I heard Victor is coming by later," she said, giving him a wink.

_Already drunk_ , Sherlock realised. That would work well in his favour. And John's too. As did bringing up Victor, if John's suddenly stiffer body was anything to go by. Oh, he loved seeing John jealous. Sometimes when it felt like the tension between them might suffocate him, John's jealousy made him feel like he could breathe again. So Sherlock made him jealous on purpose. Often. It was perhaps not 'right' or 'proper' or 'fair' but what did Sherlock care about applying ethics to his actions when it came to something he wanted?

"Is he? I'll look forward to it," Sherlock replied, giving Mary a silky smile.

Mary grinned and nodded. "Oh, I'm sure you will, you naughty boy. He's told me about some of the things you get up to together. I particularly enjoyed the story about the time you put your hands down his pants in the lecture hall and-"

"Loo," John said, taking his beer and walking away.

Sherlock frowned. Too much jealousy was apparently not good. The jealousy was supposed to bring John closer to him, not make him leave entirely. He watched as John tipped the rest of his drink down his throat and disappeared into the restroom.

Mary laughed, indicating that she had finished the story of how Sherlock had given Victor a hand job during a lecture because the professor had been boring them both to tears.

"Yes, it was very clever of me," he said, sounding bored.

"Maybe I should do the same to John," Mary said.  
  
Sherlock huffed. They didn't even have any classes together. When was she going to do that? _Here. She wants to do it here,_ Sherlock realised. "Wouldn't recommend it," he said.  
  
"Why not?" she asked.

"Messy."  
  
Mary laughed and rubbed Sherlock's arm affectionately. She liked him and he hadn't really figured out why. They were rivals for John's time. "I could just bring tissues with me, you know. Plan ahead a bit. Learn from your mistakes."

"I don't make mistakes," Sherlock said. He turned on his heel and left, leaving Mary to giggle to herself.   
  
  
 

John was glad to find he was alone and took a place at the urinal just because he might as well use the restroom if he was going to hide in it. Jealousy was licking the insides of his chest and unwelcome images of Victor's face in pleasure from Sherlock's long fingers invaded his thoughts. He zipped up and wondered if he should just call it a night and go home or go to the gym to work himself exhausted so he fell asleep and didn't lie awake thinking.

But he didn't go home. Something was happening with Sherlock tonight, something between them was escalating and he wanted to know what. He certainly couldn't leave Sherlock with his half erection waiting for Victor to arrive. John went to the bar and ordered two shots of vodka with his next beer. Even if nothing else happened, getting pissed and dancing with his girlfriend was far better than going home to think of his best friend wanking someone else off.

John was alone at the bar for a few minutes, becoming irrationally and increasingly annoyed by each passing minute that Sherlock didn't find him to press up to him from behind and make his body move independently.

"John," a voice said. It wasn't the right voice.

"Yeah?" he said, turning to face his girlfriend with a smile he had learn to plaster on in situations where a smile was needed but he didn't necessarily want to give one.

"You okay? Why are you standing over here on your own?" she asked. She put her hand in the back pocket of his jeans. Sherlock's soft cock had felt better pressed up against his arse than her familiar hand.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Tired, I suppose. Want to dance?" he asked.   
  
Mary's eyebrows lifted in surprised delight. John was full of surprises tonight. "Love to," she said. She lifted her beer bottle to indicate that she wanted to finish her drink before and John nodded. He wanted to finish his too. He was far too sober.

"C'mon, handsome," Mary said when they were finished. She took his hand and pulled him to the floor to dance to the bass heavy remix of a song John had never heard. In the mix of drums, guitars and synthesised noises there was a lone violin. It made him think of Sherlock. He scanned the area as he walked but didn't see him.

"I do like this song," Mary said, pulling their bodies together. John's body wanted to be stiff but Mary put her arms around his neck and swayed her hips and his body followed automatically. He didn't dance often but when he did, he wasn't half bad at it.

"You know, that therapist you've been seeing seems to really be helping you, John. Coming out and dancing. It's really sexy," Mary said into his ear. John threw his head back and laughed. Talking about his therapist made him nervous and Mary's choice of words felt a little bit too close to the truth. The contrast of his reaction to her voice in his ear versus Sherlock's wasn't lost on him either.

  
  


Sherlock was leaning against a wall and watching. John still had an ease in his body, a fluidity in his movements that the army would be sure to beat out of him as soon as this blissful time of peace at university was over and they were preparing him to be shipped off to parts of the world unknown. He wondered how John would dance if he was dancing with him. How would he feel if the thigh he had grabbed earlie was pushed between his thighs to move against? Would he lose his ever-tight control of himself right there and kiss him?  
  
Sherlock knew he wasn't the only one with these thoughts; Mary had the idea of public sex in her mind and with the way he had fired John up for her, he didn't see John declining unless he got a better offer.

He needed to give John a better offer.  
  
  


"There's no one acceptable to dance with," Sherlock shouted over the music.

"Oh, Sherlock. Surely there's _someone_ ," Mary said, looking behind John to look for suitable partners for Sherlock. "How about that one, with the dark hair and red t-shirt?" She was a little irritated that they'd been interrupted, but Sherlock was like a lost puppy she wanted to care for. She had no idea why she felt that way. Sherlock wasn't exactly defenceless.

"No."

"Blonde, blue shirt and green trainers?"

"God, no. And he's straight."

"Oh. Brown hair, red trousers and black jacket?"

"No."

"Ginger with green shirt?"

"No. Mary, there's no one," Sherlock said, giving her a plaintive look.

John was melting where he stood swaying. His hips were looser with Sherlock near and he had the unmistakable urge to run his hands over Mary to alleviate the frustration.

"Can I borrow John?" Sherlock asked. "Just until Victor gets here."

John snapped his head to the side and looked at him. What the fuck was he saying? They couldn't dance. John wouldn't be able to cope with having Sherlock that near without....

_Oh._ That was the point wasn't it? Sherlock wanted him to give in. Sherlock was manipulating the situation on purpose to make him give in. A thrill of excitement went through John and he locked eyes with Sherlock. There was definite heat building between them even now with Mary standing between them. It was so dangerous and _wrong_.

"Borrow John?" Mary asked, laughing. "Borrow John to _dance?_ Well. It's fine by me. I don't mind. I'm secure enough in his heterosexuality if he is." She winked at John and gave him a long kiss.

_Maybe not so secure if you insist on kissing him like that in front of me,_ Sherlock thought with his eyes narrowed. Mary needed to stop kissing _his_ John. What did she think she was doing? He almost slapped her hands away from John's body. John was his. His his his. How could she possibly be so blind that she didn't see that John's desire for him eclipsed the puny amount he had for her?

"I suppose," John said.

He sounded uncertain but the way he was looking at him told Sherlock a completely different story. John was not fighting him off. John wasn't saying he wasn't gay, that he wasn't about to dance with a man, that he wasn't going to abandon his horny girlfriend to entertain his best friend for a while.

John was saying yes.

"I'll just go have a drink then," Mary said, a little disconcerted by the fact that John hadn't said no. Maybe therapy was helping him a bit too much. But she wasn't the jealous type of girlfriend so she shrugged and left for the bar, leaving two best friends standing in front of each other completely still in a sea of moving bodies.

Sherlock searched his mind for something to say. A clever innuendo, an observation about the willingness to dance with him, a funny joke. But there was nothing that couldn't potentially made John run for the hills. So he said nothing and put his arms around John's waist.

 

John took a step closer. There was still plenty of air between their bodies but it was already electrically charged air. Sherlock smiled at him and began to move. The smile was genuine. A rarity even though it had shown up on his face twice that night already. John made him smile. It wasn't something Sherlock spent any time considering as an act of self defence.

John, meanwhile, wasn't looking at Sherlock and missed it. He was looking to the side of Sherlock, at his shoulder, at a spot above his head and for a few seconds he closed his eyes and didn't look at all. The suggestive, sexual nature of dancing in this dark, hot place with people seducing each other all around them made desire escalate uncomfortably fast for John. He thought not seeing Sherlock in his peripherals would help but instead he just became very aware of how Sherlock's arms felt around his waist and the way he smelled. Everything was warm, bordering on hot. His nerves were humming and aching to be activated by Sherlock's touch. He wondered if Sherlock felt the same. John hoped he did because he couldn't keep himself from touching Sherlock anymore.   
  
He put his hands on the strong but slim forearms that were holding him and slid them up over the biceps to his shoulders. Sherlock's fingertips pushed into his lower back and John opened his eyes again and finally met his gaze. Sherlock's eyes were demanding; he didn't want John to fight this.

Sherlock bowed his head to John's. "I am enjoying this, John," Sherlock said into his ear. John didn't laugh as he had when Mary had commented on his dancing. This wasn't funny in the least bit.   
  
Sherlock stayed as he was, with his lips John's ear, but said nothing more.   
  
The feeling and sound of Sherlock's slightly laboured exhale on his ear made John close his eyes again. "Pull me closer," he said. He couldn't step closer himself. The physical action of it would feel like he was planning on cheating on his girlfriend and that was a thought he didn't want to have now. He didn't want to think at all. He wanted Sherlock to take control of him and have him even if John wasn't his to have. Sherlock using force to pull him in felt more like he was being seduced against his better judgement. John wanted to be seduced.

Sherlock responded immediately and pressed their bodies together. He was rewarded with the sound of John's soft moan and a hand slipping to the back of his neck and rubbing there. They stayed like that, swaying, as the song came to and end and another started. There was no question that they would keep dancing through this one, too. The new song had a slower beat and their movements followed suit. Sherlock remembered his interest in knowing what John would do if his thigh was available for constant friction and he adjusted his leg. He held his breath.

"Sherlock."

It wasn't a protest. It wasn't angry. It was a breath that happened to include his name. Sherlock let out a relieved breath. He followed the stream of air with his lips and kissed John just below his ear. The fingers on his neck tightened so Sherlock did it again.

  
John was pushing himself against the thigh between his legs and after another kiss to his neck, he was lightly grinding against it. Every heavy beat of music around them was matched by a pulse of blood filling up his cock. He knew Sherlock could feel it. He knew Sherlock could hear the soft moan on each of his exhales. He also knew Sherlock wanted these things so he didn't bother with feeling ashamed of the way his body was acting. Of how _he_ was acting.  
  
  


The rush of feeling John hardening against his leg was unlike anything Sherlock had ever experienced. He'd had rushes of drugs and the adrenaline of being in mortal danger, and he had experienced rushes of lust but never had any sensation topple him over like this. John Watson was going to consume him. And he was going to consume John Watson. But not here.

"John," he said. He bit into the earlobe and pushed his thigh forward. John groaned and rubbed his cheek against Sherlock's as if he was completely desperate for any physical contact. Sherlock could give him much better than a rub of the cheek.

"Come home with me, John," he said.


End file.
